Elusive
by Cinderella Starsend
Summary: Most everyone thinks that they know her like the back of their hand when in reality they know nothing at all. That seems to be Aria's gift: an illusion of familiarity and a habit of building mirrored walls that refract her image and bend the truths. A Sherlock fanfic with an OC tossed in. May or may not include romance.
1. Chapter 1

On this particular day in apartment 221B, the kitchen table was strangely free of clutter and wiped clean. In fact, the entire flat was in order due to the string of potential tenants that had been coming in to express interest in renting out the newly mended 221C. Mrs. Hudson wanted to include the boys in the process, since it was just as much their home now as much as it was hers. Still, she would claim the final decision, but it was very hard with Sherlock Holmes exposing each person's darkest secrets and disgusting habits. Nearly all of the applicants left within three minutes and John Watson was growing increasingly exasperated with his flatmates's uncontrollable little quirk.

Now there was a young woman seated across the table who seemed like a nice girl. She held herself with a certain level of poise that one didn't see too often these days, which greatly enchanted both John and Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock, however, remained silent as he observed them from his chair in the living area. The woman had showed up shortly after their last interviewee stormed out, spewing all sorts of expletives aimed at the freak in the chair. Mrs. Hudson went into a mad rush to prepare a fresh pot of tea.

"I'm sorry for dropping in so suddenly. I hope I haven't caused you too much trouble. My name is Aria Royale," she said.

"Oh, no trouble at all, Miss Royale," John quickly said. "We haven't had much luck so far, so please… tell us about yourself."

"Well…" Aria set her teacup down into its saucer and folded her hands. "I'm from America, but I've decided to try my hand at travelling." There was a snort from Sherlock's direction, but she easily chose to ignore it while John sent him a severe look. "Right now, I'm working as a bartender at the pub a few blocks from here, but I have an interview set up at the London Library in a couple weeks."

"How long have you been in London, Miss Royale?" John asked, genuinely interested.

Aria's eyes squinted slightly as she pursed her lips in thought, "About two months now… I'm sharing a flat with this other woman, but we've decided it was best if I moved out."

"Oh, may I ask why?"

"She's a very nice girl," she said, a mild blush rising to her cheeks. "Very nice and we got along well, but she was a little too aggressive. Uh-" It looked like neither of them were quite understanding what she was trying to say. "She developed some very strong feelings towards me in the short time we've spent together, so I just don't feel comfortable staying there anymore."

When John and Mrs. Hudson continued to stare at her in confusion, Aria could only tilt her head slightly to the side, at a loss as to how to proceed.

"She was living with a lesbian, obviously!" Sherlock shouted with a short laugh and a shake of his head. "Obviously," he muttered with a smug smile.

"Oh. Oh! Of course, I understand, dear," Mrs. Hudson said, reaching across the table and patting her on the arm. "I've experienced the same thing in my day. I know what it's like."

John turned and gave the old woman a mildly disturbed look, wisely choosing not to ask for the details of that particular story.

"We're still good friends," Aria said. "I'm pretty adaptable. I can deal with almost anything."

"Well, if you can deal with Sherlock, I wouldn't mind having you around," John said, casting a glance over to the pale, dark haired man. "She does have your approval, doesn't she, Sherlock?"

Sherlock stared at Aria for a moment longer before he lost interest, dismissing them with a haughty wave of his hand. "She's dull, boring, and nothing of note… so do whatever you please," he muttered.

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson scolded.

John slapped a hand over his face in shame and quickly turned to Aria, apologies spilling from his mouth. He didn't want Sherlock to drive her off too, especially when she seemed like such a nice young woman. But Aria was only smiling in amusement, "Good to know. Thank you, Sherlock," she looked to Mrs. Hudson. "Can I see the place then?"

"Oh, of course, dear," Mrs. Hudson smiled in relief as she stood and led the way down to 221C. "It is going to be so lovely to have another woman in the house and not everyone seems to find Sherlock as funny as you do. Those two are always out and running about, bringing with them all sorts of commotion. I do hope you don't find them too much of a bother."

"I'll be fine," Aria assured her. "I'm good with chaos."

She discussed a few more things with the older woman before she was handed a key and left alone to admire the empty room. It was dark and rather glum, but it was nothing a bit of key lighting couldn't fix. Aria pushed back the curtains from the single window and took a deep breath. Apparently, Mrs. Hudson had the entire space renovated due to the damp, then furnished the room with a single bed, an old wardrobe armoire, a small vanity table, and a lamp. She wasn't sure what 'the damp' was, but she imagined that it wasn't healthy. It was small and very cheap, but she had a hunch it wasn't only because of the room itself. Mrs. Hudson mentioned the troubles they were having in finding people who would put up with Sherlock and his number of eccentrics.

But the odd consulting detective was the least of Aria's worries and she could hardly be picky when looking for an obscure, hidden away corner to live in. 221C Baker Street fit the bill to a tee and she wasn't about to let anything drive her away before giving it a shot.

. . .

The original plan was to stick to the shadows and do her own thing, but she quickly realized that it wasn't going to be an option with the way Mrs. Hudson regularly interacted with the gentlemen in 221B. Aria was consistently invited upstairs for tea, which she had no idea how to decline without being entirely rude and ungrateful. Other mornings, when Mrs. Hudson was absent, Aria would wind up cooking for all three of them since she hadn't a kitchen of her own. From what John had told her once, Sherlock had a habit of forgoing meals and had to be constantly reminded to feed himself. Aria had half a mind to think of him as a giant baby.

Still, she was adjusting fairly well to the fast becoming norm of their routine. Aria was even comfortable enough to invite her old flatmate over to visit one morning. It was still early when she poured herself a cup of tea, but Carla had confirmed her intentions of swinging by for a visit before work. She had only greeted the men with a short mumble of a good morning when the bell chimed and Mrs. Hudson's shuffle could be heard as she went to open the door. It was only a few moments before a thunderous pounding of footsteps came rushing up the stairs, accompanied by a loud, "Aria, I've missed you so much!"

Aria barely had time to react as a body crashed into her back and embraced her from behind. She expertly managed to balance the cup of tea in its saucer without incident, a move she seemed to have mastered by now.

"Carla, I saw you a couple days ago," she said. Clearly this was completely normal. "And could you not grope my breasts in front of my flatmates?"

Carla peeked up over her shoulder to find the two men watching them from across the room and quickly released her. "Oops! Of course, I apologize," she said with a laugh. "I'm Carla, Aria's old flatmate."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss. I'm John Watson," the blond greeted politely. "This is Sherlock Holmes."

He and Carla traded stares, but nothing happened. "It's so nice to meet you," she said, mostly to John. "I hope you take care of Aria, she's getting used to things here, but she does have a lot to learn."

"Carla, why don't I show you my new room?" Aria cut in, clearly embarrassed by her approach. "It's just this way, downstairs."

Aria turned to lead the young woman with red curls down the flight of stairs, cup of tea still in her hand. When they got there, she closed the door behind them and set the saucer on her nightstand. One look at Carla and she could tell that she had her doubts about her new living space.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright here, Aria?" She asked. "Living with two strange old men?"

"What? I'll be fine," Aria laughed. "They're both alright and they're not that old. Besides, Mrs. Hudson is here too. It's like a mother and her sons."

"John seems like a nice fellow, it's that Sherlock that worries me."

"He's different-"

"Are you sure he isn't a psychotic serial killer? He has that look about him- He's so creepy!"

"I am most certainly not 'creepy'!" Sherlock burst out from behind the closed door. "I'm a much better flatmate than a lesbian preying on poor, unsuspecting American girls!"

Aria cleared her throat, moving to the door to let him come waltzing in. He went straight to his usual perch, which was a soft yellow couch that only seated one. Aria had taken a liking to it right away and dragged it into the place herself. Sherlock meandered down to see what all the commotion was about, but remained decidedly unconcerned as she inched it down the little hallway. John eventually showed up and helped her shove it down the narrow stairwell and into her room. Now Sherlock fell into it with a lot more grandeur than anyone needed.

"Excuse me?" Carla scoffed.

"He's always like that, Carla, just ignore him," Aria piped up. "He's a little odd, but he's always working closely with the police. He calls himself a consulting detective."

"I don't care what he calls himself, he-"

"Ah, this is where you all disappeared to," John peered into the small room, then frowned at Sherlock. "You said you were popping out to the store, Sherlock."

"I lied."

"Aria, let's talk about this later," Carla sighed, not wanting to argue in front of John. "I have to head to work, but call me if you need anything."

She moved forward and pulled the shorter girl into a hug, then dropped a chaste kiss on her lips. With one last warning look directed at Sherlock, she excused herself and sidled past John to head back up the stairs. Sherlock squinted his eyes at Aria and John continued to give him a stern look.

"You do know that a casual kiss on the mouth isn't an English custom?"

"I figured it out within a few weeks of getting here, yeah," Aria said.

"Come on, Sherlock, she hasn't even been here a week," John said. "Leave her alone."

"It's fine, John," she muttered, tidying up her room a bit now that were was company in it. "Sherlock scares away all the basement goblins."

"Well, I'm going to the store, would you like to come along?" The blond doctor offered.

Aria had to pause to think about it because she didn't really feel like leaving the flat. Then again, she was in need of some groceries, so she ultimately agreed to tag along with the old army doctor this time. She grabbed her coat from the corner of the room and pointed a finger at Sherlock, who hadn't moved from the seat.

"We'll be back," Aria warned. "Remember, you can stay as long as you don't stash any body parts and you don't snoop… if you do, then don't mess everything up. I just got everything in order today."

Sherlock waved them away as if they were being pests, but it was John who looked more worried about leaving the detective unsupervised in the girl's room. Then again, Aria didn't seem to have anything to hide, so there was no reason to be worried about Sherlock's tendency to dig a little. Still, he made sure to ask, "Are you sure it's alright if we leave him in there?"

"I think it's the residual smoke smell that he likes," Aria replied, pulling on her scarf as they stepped out onto the streets and John took the lead. "What's the worst he could do?"


	2. Chapter 2

On this morning in apartment 221B, Aria was nursing both a horrible headache and a cup of tea at the cluttered kitchen table. Sherlock was curled up on the couch, sour faced due to the lack of excitement as of late. Aria knew better than to pester him now, unless she wanted the irritated consulting detective to embark on a mission to show off and simultaneously insult her. A nice silence had settled over the flat until John's footsteps could be heard climbing down the stairs.

Neither of them greeted him as he arrived, but Aria merely lifted a finger to the hot kettle of tea sitting on the stove. John prepared a cup for himself before addressing the bleak mood.

"Rough night then?"

"Awful."

"Oh, but you love the nightlife," Sherlock insisted. "Your wardrobe clearly-"

"You went through her wardrobe?" John seemed to be more appalled than Aria herself. "Sherlock!"

"There wasn't anything unusual, John," he sighed. "Just an array of lacy lingerie and tight fitting clothing. Typical for an American woman of her age and size. Though I do wonder about that one costume…"

"Ok. Let's stay away from that one, Sherlock," Aria muttered. "It's not exactly breakfast talk."

She picked up her still steaming tea and downed it in one gulp. Then she rose from the table, swinging by the couch to grab Sherlock's empty cup so she could wash it in the sink. Aria would have tidied up the area had she not felt like utter shit, but she was sure that if she didn't take care of it, Mrs. Hudson would. Neither of them were housekeepers, but the gentlemen took advantage of their inherent habits to tend to the home. Mrs. Hudson frequently reminded them, but Aria never cared mentioned it.

"How was your interview, Aria?" John asked, settling into his chair in the living area.

"I start next week, but I don't have nearly enough hours," she sighed, wiping down the sides of the sink before joining them. "I'll still be doing a few weekend shifts at the pub."

"But you like working as a bartender," Sherlock said from his side of the room. "Why are you so displeased?"

Aria paused, glancing at him as a momentary silence lapsed. "I enjoy it, I'm good at it, but I'm getting old, Sherlock," she said. "I'm dying for something a little more low key than a rowdy pub full of drunks and idiots. Anyways, the Royal Mile might not be open for much longer, you know, with the way things are going there."

"What is going on there?" The consulting detective shifted, piercing her with a stare.

"Nothing," Aria frowned at him, unnerved by the intensity of his gaze. "Just a lot of weird incidents, Sherlock. Not like anyone is being killed."

"Like what?"

"Injuries, illnesses, accidents," she decided not to fight him on this one. "There are probably at least five happenings within a week. They've already started spouting stories about the vengeful ghost of Marnie Dickens, which is all rubbish if you ask me. How's that? Do I sound British yet?"

Aria laughed and straightened her robe, beaming as John looked up at her and gave her an approving nod. Sherlock, however, wasn't as agreeable and was already sitting up in his seat, staring deep into the patterns of the adjacent wall. She pursed her lips, shaking her head at the distracted man in the corner before turning to John instead. He was far more better company than Sherlock on any given day.

"John, can you come with me to the Farmer's Market?" She asked.

"Of course," he agreed. "That's a wonderful idea. Let's do that."

They both washed up and dressed to leave the flat within the hour. Aria kept her hand on John's arm as he guided her through the busy sidewalks of London. They took this time to chat about minor subjects, which for John meant checking on how Aria was adapting to the different culture.

"How's your friend, Karla?"

"She's doing fine," Aria told him. "I can't say that I miss her crawling into my bed in the middle of the night or surprising me in the shower. I'm just glad she took my moving out so well. She's been busy lately. She usually gives me an earful about living with Sherlock, but I haven't heard from her in a few days."

"I can't say I blame her for being concerned, Sherlock is something else," John laughed.

"Yes, he is," she agreed. "When I moved in, you said you guys did consulting work, right?"

"Right, but it's been really quiet lately," he said. "You can tell by Sherlock's mood, but he'll perk right up when something comes along. It's horribly indecent the way he reacts to a murder."

"I'm not surprised," Aria grimaced. "He's brilliant though, isn't he?"

"He is," John agreed without a doubt. "He's also very good at making enemies. Are you sure he doesn't bother you too much?"

Aria's expression indicated that she was thinking about something she wasn't telling him as she pressed her lips together and squinted at the sky.

"Believe me," she finally said. "Sherlock Holmes is the least of my worries."

. . .

"I finally found you." A low voice muttered next to her ear.

Aria let out a surprised squeak and nearly dropped the tomatoes in her hands. She turned her head and glared at the tall man standing behind her. John was on the other side, but it seemed as if he had failed to notice their third wheel. She put the produce down and crossed her arms over her chest, sincerely ticked this time.

"Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?"

John turned around just then, joining her in fixing the man with a stern stare. Sherlock appeared mildly bewildered by their hostile reactions to his presence, but he quickly dismissed it and instead dove into something else entirely.

"It wasn't a bloody ghost at your workplace, Aria," he said. "It was just an idiot."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nigel Munt!" Sherlock burst, unable to contain himself. "That foolish busboy who wanted so desperately to be a barman for once. Too bad his schemes often reached the wrong people."

"You went to the Royal Mile," Aria sighed, bringing a hand to her forehead. "That was quick, Sherlock. So you're saying Nigel was the one behind all of those strange events?"

Sherlock nodded his head sharply, clasping his hands behind his back and looking thoroughly pleased with himself as if his job were done. The young woman scratched her head and glanced over at John, who shrugged his shoulders. She had the feeling that the dark haired man was waiting for something, so she figured that she would just go along with it.

"Impressive," was all she offered.

His pale lips pressed together then Aria was handing him two plastic bags of fresh vegetables for him to carry. His brows came together and his mouth downturned into a frown when he realized that he was being utilized for a way other than his intelligence.

"Good thing you found us, Sherlock," Aria said, giving him a smug smile. "I wanted to buy some melons and I just couldn't burden John with anything else."

Sherlock scowled the rest of the time they were there. He attempted to escape numerous times, but he couldn't outmaneuver both John and Aria. Eventually, they grew tired of keeping an eye on him and left the market to head back to Baker Street. When they rounded the corner of the said street, a few cars were park out in front of the residence.

He was trudging along behind them, but Sherlock suddenly pushed his way past them and rushed towards the flat. Aria checked behind them to make sure they weren't about to get run over by a car or something else with wheels, but when she saw no one she looked to John for an explanation. He only gave her a shake of his head and inclined his chin towards 221, picking up his pace.

When they arrived, they found the plastic bags Sherlock had been carrying discarded at the bottom of the stairs. Aria scolded the man as she scooped them up and hauled the load up the flight of stairs herself. The second she stepped up onto the second floor landing, she could see that they had guests.

A man with dark, peppered hair turned to look at her and Aria instinctively put on a smile. John came around from behind and gave the man a passing greeting on his way to the kitchen. He said something to her, telling her to put the bags on the table so he could put everything away.

"Oh, let me help you, Miss," the man suddenly thought to take some of the load from her hands, but she automatically shied away and politely declined.

"I'm alright, thanks," she smiled. "I'd better get used to it if Sherlock does this every time."

Aria moved around him and put everything on the table, which John had quickly cleared for her. She turned, wiping her hands on her jeans before offering the man a hand.

"My name is Aria Royale," she said. "I live downstairs."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Royale," he replied, offering a friendly smile as he shook her hand. "I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade."

Aria tilted her head slightly, taken by surprise as she had to repeat the bit she thought she heard, "Lestrade?"

"He's the one we were telling you about Aria, from Scotland Yard," John inserted. "You'll be seeing him pop in every now and then."

Lestrade was squinting slightly at Aria, as if trying to remember something he had forgotten. She blinked up at him, a placid smile on her mouth as she raised her brows at him. It seemed as if he wanted to say something.

"I'm so sorry, but have we met before?" He asked.

"No, I don't think so," she replied with a short shake of her head, releasing his hand and shrugging her shoulders. "Do you go to the pubs often? I used to work at a few when I first came here."

"Ah, then that must be why your face is familiar," Lestrade nodded in understanding.

"I believe you are here to see me," Sherlock's voice rose impatiently from his position at the window.

Lestrade, Aria, and John all turned to look at him. He was already beginning to tick. God forbid he spend another minute in boredom. The young woman merely watched, curious to actually witness what John was always telling her about.

"We think it's a serial murder," was all Lestrade had to say.

Sherlock's posture looked a little terse, but it seemed he at least had the decency to hold himself back. Or so Aria thought until she recognized the crinkling around his eyes and the horrible grin stretching his face. She looked to John in disbelief, but he only offered a shrug in return.

"You're horrible," she muttered as Sherlock turned around and practically skipped across the room.

"Come on then, we'll follow you in a cab," Sherlock said to Lestrade, retrieving his scarf from the couch and tying it around his neck.

"You coming, Aria?" John asked, following Sherlock without missing a beat.

"What? C-can I?" Aria looked to Lestrade for permission.

Lestrade himself was caught off guard by the question because he had to stop to think about it for a long moment. It was basic protocol to say no, but Sherlock was a consistent when it came to breaking rules. But Aria seemed like a nice girl and he thought she might be scarred after seeing a dead body. Then again, she was still new and this would be a good way for her to get to know her new flatmates.

"Sure, why not?" He said finally with a forced smile.

Aria caught the slight grimace on his face and gave him an amused grin. There was a youthful touch of mischief tucking into the corner of her mouth before she hurried out the door to catch up with the other men.


End file.
